


Out of the Lab-yrinth

by notapepper



Series: Science Babies Bein' Babies (Academy & Sci-Ops) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Inspired by a Movie, Sci-Ops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/pseuds/notapepper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She'd always liked the movie, with its spectacle and puppetry and magic, but adulthood had brought on the realization that Jareth was… well, to put it plainly, he was sexy.  And <em>Fitz</em> as Jareth?"<br/>In which FitzSimmons dress up as characters from the movie <em>Labyrinth</em> for a night out.<br/>(Set at Sci-Ops and fits within the world created by Oh To Be Young and The Shots You Don't Take.  Can be read on its own.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
> So this story came about purely from the image of Fitz dressed as Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth, when my gorgeous beta amandajoyce118 and I were brainstorming Halloween costumes for Fitz. If you've never seen the movie, it's a fun one, and would probably provide a good background for reading this fic, but I think you can still understand it.
> 
> This is set at Sci-Ops and matches up with my Academy stories, Oh To Be Young and The Shots You Don't Take. It will contain mentions of events and characters in those stories, but again, it's not necessary to read those in order to understand this.

"I look ridiculous."

"No! You look…"  _Ridiculously_ _ **hot**_ _. Fry an egg on your dashboard hot._   _Melting point of tungsten hot._  But Simmons wasn't about to say that to her best friend, not when he was currently  _poured_ into a pair of tight gray trousers, knee high boots, a white silk pirate shirt and one dramatically collared leather jacket. "...really authentic. And it's  _not_ girly -- will you stop fidgeting? -- the Goblin King's eye makeup is one of the most iconic things about him, so just-- hold still, Fitz, please."

Simmons swooped the pearlescent cream-colored eye shadow across Fitz's brow before going back and filling in a missed spot of peacock blue along his lids. If she was being honest, the makeup made his already gorgeous eyes stand out even more. She was glad they weren't planning on drinking that evening, or she might have been in trouble.  _Not that being sober's stopped us before._

Fitz wasn't big on costumes; she'd known that ever since their first Halloween when she'd gone as the Fourth Doctor and he'd steadfastly refused to participate in the celebrations. But how often did the twenty-fifth anniversary of  _Labyrinth_ come around with a special showing in the first-run theaters? Featuring a Q & A with the producers and a chance to see a few of the original puppets? She didn't want to go  _alone_ , and Fitz was her best friend.  _Besides, he dragged me to that four-hour presentation on dam structure, nothing wrong with a little payback._

If she was going to go, she was going unapologetically full-tilt, she thought, giving Fitz his leave before brushing the powder from her hands, then tugging on her poet blouse and mask. It was a large thing, covering her head entirely, and would likely be too hot for the late June weather. But, she rationalized, the sun was setting and they would be in an air-conditioned cinema for the majority of the time.  _And I've already put loads of work into our costumes, no sense changing things around at the last minute._

Fitz's outfit was the real masterpiece, even if he didn't seem to appreciate it. With the blonde Rod Stewart wig and eye makeup in place, he was the spitting image of David Bowie as Jareth, more so when he pulled out a clear plastic gravity ball and began rolling it over his knuckles. The dexterity in his fingers left Jemma a bit breathless as she watched him flip the ball over, under, and back, the hypnotic motion drawing her eyes to the calluses on his thumbs, the neatly trimmed nails, the careful way he placed the sphere here and there and up and down, meticulous as ever.  _Fiddlesticks_. This was going to be torture.

She'd always liked  _Labyrinth_ , with its spectacle and puppetry and magic, but adulthood had brought on the realization that Jareth was… well, to put it plainly, he was sexy. And  _Fitz_ as Jareth? A small tremor went through her knees as her partner's familiar blue tsunami crashed over her, staring out from beneath a sulky brow, and she was suddenly grateful for the rubber mask hiding her flush.

"I still don't understand why  _I_ couldn't be the grumpy little gnome, and you get the leggings and long hair. You'd be a more graceful Goblin King anyway."

She bit her tongue before admitting she might've been desperately curious to see him dressed this way. "I'm Hoggle because I'm shorter than you are. And I can't do  _that_." She gestured to his capable hands, which were still engaged in contact juggling. She squirmed at the thought of how those skills could be put to better use, and tugged up the bottom of her mask so that she could face him fully, the latex edge sitting just above her hairline like a grotesque beanie. "Please, Fitz? You know how long I've been looking forward to this…" She tried her best to keep the whine out of her voice. She really did.

"Fine," he grumbled, "but I'm bringing along somethin' to play with in case I get bored."

 _I'll give you something to play with._  She immediately chastised herself. They hadn't even left the apartment yet and already she was completely distracted by the way the boots made him shift his weight and stand taller, chest broad in the structured jacket, and his surprisingly muscled thighs mocking her through the stretchy fabric.

"If it makes you feel better, go ahead," she conceded, "though I know you're going to love it as much as I do."

* * *

As they were walking down the hall towards their theater, a group of pre-teen girls on their way out of a showing of Pirates of the Caribbean stumbled into them.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, please, excuse me," Simmons clucked, though it wasn't her fault.

The girls eyed each other like racehorses before beginning to squeal. "Oh my gosh you're her! Can we have your autograph?"

Simmons halted, looking perplexed at her partner. "Beg your pardon? I think you've got the wrong person."

"It's definitely her," they were whispering to each other, unsubtly, before turning back to Jemma. "From Pirates of the Caribbean? You've got the British accent and everything!"

Simmons rolled her eyes at the idea of a "British" accent and was about to launch into a discussion of linguistics and geography when Fitz spoke up.

"Penelope Cruz?" He peered at the poster just outside the thick door for Theater 3, scrunching his face like a washcloth.

The girls were giggling. "No, the other one! From the earlier movies, you know? She's a total babe." The last comment was thrown at Fitz, apparently confident that he'd easily recall an actress's name when told of her beauty.

"Hear that, Fitz? I remind them of the babe." Simmons gleefully arched an eyebrow, a tiny thrill shooting up her spine at the silly inside joke. Fitz, who still hadn't seen the movie, looked like a kid who'd wandered into the wrong classroom.

"Kyra… no, Keira Knightley!" One of the girls had started flapping her hands in nervous excitement, waving a phone in the air. "That's you, right? Can we get a selfie?" A chorus of young voices started up, pleading.

"What?" Now it was Simmons' turn to furrow her brow. This was all very flattering, but she couldn't really understand it. She hadn't bothered with her hair or makeup tonight, and she was sweaty, and dressed as  _Hoggle_ , for crying out loud. "Oh, thank you, she's  _beautiful_ , but I'm not--" Simmons was dragged into the middle of their group, cut off by high-pitched exclamations. She saw a cactus sprout across Fitz's face. "Girls, please! I think I would know if I were--" Dozens of cameras went off with clicks and flashes before she was released, a bit unsteady after the brace of numerous bodies against hers, and the girls spun off as one towards the exit, echoing each other in their thanks and muffled  _eeks_ of delight.

Fitz knitted his brows together as he took a moment, staring at Simmons, her face still flushed from the attention and the flurry of activity surrounding her. "You shouldn't do that."

"What?" She remained a bit flummoxed.

"Don't put yourself down."

She wrinkled her nose at him in bafflement. "What are you on about?"

Fitz scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head near-imperceptibly. "Never mind." He motioned to Theater 4. "Why don't I save us seats while you go get some popcorn? And candy. And some Cokes. Actually, you know what, I should just go."

"Candy, Fitz?" She restrained a sigh. "Must we do this every time?"

"Don't lie, you know you're going to want some later. And you're buyin'."

Simmons rolled her eyes and pulled out her wallet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like making a lot of references in my fics, so if you caught those, good for you!  
> Fitz's feelings about Halloween costumes and the Doctor Who costume is from StarryDreamer01 on FF's story When it's dark enough, you can see the stars.  
> The contact juggling is a nod to Fitz's magician abilities and his skill with sleight-of-hand, explored in depth in amandajoyce118's Prestidigitation, chapter 16 of Conversation Hearts.  
> I should have the next chapter up within a couple days. I'm splitting my writing time between making edits to the current chapter and working on the last part of the story.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you couldn’t tell, Simmons has the hots for Fitz in this fic. Many chapters will contain admiring descriptions of Fitz’s body, some risqué thoughts. You’ve been warned!

"Oh, Lord. What did you drag me to?" Fitz's groan wasn't exactly discreet as the opening credits sprang to the screen among strains of a familiar song.

"You hush."

"The CGI on that owl is preposterous."

"Shh." She very nearly put her hand over his mouth, except the last time she had, he'd licked it out of childish habit. And her palm wasn't  _exactly_ where she wanted his tongue.

-o-

"I know she's just a kid, but could they have picked a worse actress?"

"Her acting gets better later on."

"Better than crap is still pretty crap." Cranky and all, Fitz  _was_ attempting to whisper, he just seemed to have forgotten his "library voice".  _Perhaps I should call his mum to sort him out._ Simmons smiled a bit wickedly at the thought.

"Fitz, I swear if you--"

"Will you two stop talking?"

"Oh goodness, of course, sir, I'm terribly sorry."

-o-

"Good God, how much was their glitter budget?"

" _Fitz_."

"Glitter is the herpes of the craft world, I hope you know."

"Ugh." Jemma scoffed, but hid her face as she remembered that Fitz only hated glitter because he'd once insisted on making her a birthday card.

-o-

"Oh, joy. Because just in case there aren't any crying babies in the theater, put one in the film! Thanks. You're right, Simmons, this was a great idea."

She ignored the sarcasm, focusing instead on the fabulous musical number onscreen. "If you ruin this for me I'm not going to the go-cart track with you next weekend."

"You're bluffing. You wouldn't dare."

"Interrupt Bowie again and we'll see who's bluffing."

Fitz filled his mouth with popcorn, and Simmons tried not to feel jealous of popcorn.

-o-

"Excuse me." Fitz stood awkwardly, causing a bevy of hissed 'sit downs' and 'out of the ways' to erupt from the rows behind them.

Simmons tutted. "Really, Fitz? Why didn't you go before the film started?" She very nearly succeeded in not looking at his crotch, which was now right around eye level.  _That's_ _ **got**_ _to be some kind of athletic cup._

"Don't put this on me, Simmons -- you bought us the giant drink, for Christ's sake."

"Well, get me some Raisinets then, while you're out."

Fitz's grin gleamed wide in the indirect light.

* * *

Fitz really had been very patient, perhaps even enjoyed himself after all, she thought, as he received compliment after compliment from the other cinema-goers on his ensemble. He thrilled them to no end when he began twisting and spinning the "crystal ball" on practiced palms and worldly digits.  _And I'm the one he's leaving with._  Too bad  _that_ didn't mean what it sounded like. Honestly, though, she couldn't complain -- not really, not when she and Fitz got to spend nearly all their time together.

Someday, perhaps, Fitz would notice that she was a woman, or set off the conversation about what, exactly, they were to each other. Until then, she could content herself with a quick peek at his arse in those painted-on trousers, trusting her mask to camouflage her ogling. Because she did mean to ogle him. Those leggings were writing cheques that his backside could definitely cash -- it looked like a pair of firm boxing gloves lashed side-by-side, bouncing along in a duffel. Those glorious buttocks were just begging for a pinch.  _Stop that, Jemma. It's not even St. Patrick's Day._  She twisted her hands together in an attempt to keep them still.  _No squeezing Fitz's bum._  Not today, at least.

"All right, all right," Fitz hung his head in surrender, smiling as they gathered their things and prepared to head home. "That wasn't too horrible."

She pulled off her mask and tugged her fingers through her slightly sweaty hair, tousling it into some semblance of style. After a moment's hesitation, she also yanked off her poet blouse and tucked it into her belt, leaving her in a tank top and the knee-length Hoggle trousers. She sighed happily when the cool air hit her skin, and turned back to Fitz with a told-you-so brow. "Not horrible, hmm? Such praise…"

Fitz's shrugged off her teasing good-naturedly. "Turns out I didn't even need this little beauty to distra--" he stuck his hand in the pocket of his leather coat, "--er, Jemma?" A note of panic was creeping into his voice.

"What's the matter?"

"Erm…"

"Fitz…"

"Okay. Okay, this isn't that bad. It probably just fell out of my pocket in the loo."

"What fell out of your pocket?"

"Erm, well… y' know earlier in the lab, I was modifyin' the Glow-Glow Power Range?"

 _This again._  "I told you, we're not calling it that, it doesn't even make sense and what's wrong with just saying 'Targeted On-Board Illumination Interface'--"

"Oh, I don't know, because it's  _boring_ , Simmons -- anyway, I thought I'd just bring along the battery component-- see if I could fix--" he trailed off at her crossed arms and pointed glare. "Obviously I didn't know  _this_ would happen, did I?" Fitz had the audacity to look indignant. "Now will you check around our seats, please? It was turned off, so it won't be glowing--"

"I should hope  _not_. We don't know how it could react to being activated for extended periods--"

"I  _know_ , Simmons. Will y' just help me find it?"

* * *

A few minutes later Simmons was using the flashlight app on her cell phone, peeking under seats, when Fitz burst back into the now-empty theater.

"Bloody Hell, Simmons, please tell me you spotted it."

"No luck, I'm afraid. Care to explain why you thought taking a potentially dangerous power source," she lowered her voice to a hiss, "out of our  _secret government lab_  and bringing it to the  _cinema_ was a good idea?"

"Oh, stop your haiverin'," he slitted his eyes, retaliatory, "I wasn't even gonna turn it on, just work at stabilizing the wiggly bits in the casing. And y' know I like to have somethin' to tinker with in case I get bored."

"Are you bored  _now_ , Fitz? Because if Sci-Ops finds out you lost a piece of tech," she snapped out under her breath, "with  _alien material_  in it, they'll have both our hides."

"We're not gonna give them that chance. C'mon, Simmons, we're a couple of geniuses, I'm sure we can find one little battery."

They stepped out into the lobby, heading for the manager's office, when the strains of an argument reached their ears.

"Give it back, Cody!"

"No way, nardbutt. You'll break it. Here," a teenager handed a smaller boy a cell phone, "keep playing your stupid bird game."

"But I found it! It's mine! I'm gonna tell mom."

"Simmons, look." Fitz pointed. She cast her eyes to the concession area just outside  _Transformers: Dark of the Moon_ , and saw a sloppily dressed fourteen- or fifteen-year-old, roughhousing with his younger brother of perhaps nine or ten. Simmons' first thought was that it was a bit late for them to be out of the house on a weeknight. Her second was that she didn't like the way they were throwing about the nigh-irreplaceable power component from their device. Cody, the taller and probably more obnoxious, was currently engaged in holding the tennis-ball-sized object up where the little one couldn't reach it.

But the part that truly concerned her was the dim light swirling over the battery's core, casting a soft teal glimmer into the space around it. The boys had somehow managed to turn it on.  _That could be very bad._  They hadn't had any dangerous readings off the object in the lab as yet, but she didn't like to take chances in an uncontrolled environment.

"Well that's a stroke of good fortune, Fitz!" Simmons beamed as she headed straight towards the duo. "Excuse me? Beg pardon? Boys? Excuse me, boys--"

They turned to watch her as she hastily crossed the expanse of boldly patterned carpet. "Thank you  _so_ much for finding this!" She gave them her best smile, hoping to charm them into settling this all quickly, so she could get home to her nice soft bed and fuel her dreams with images of Fitz in costume. "Honestly, you two are my heroes tonight."

The shorter youth seemed intrigued. "Hi," he squeaked out, looking behind her at Fitz with open curiosity and a smidge of distrust. A second later his older brother pushed him bodily out of the way.

"Step off, Trey. She's talking to  _me_. Hey, beautiful." His adolescent wink was as unsettling as it was unwelcome.

Simmons forced herself into civility for the sake of recovering their tech. "I was just noticing that you've picked up my, er…"  _Oh, God._  She couldn't very well say  _alien power source_ , "… bicycle light," she finished lamely.

"Really." Cody seemed unimpressed, tossing and catching the item in question like a 50's gangster with a coin. "Never seen a bicycle light like that. Where'd you get it?"

"Erm…"  _Crumbs._  Why couldn't she lie?

"It's so cool!" Trey piped up, and beamed at Simmons. "Can I keep it? Please? I'll be your friend forever." He had an aura about him that implied he'd spent many of his younger years manipulating adults with his cuteness. At nine, however, the baby face had all but worn off, leaving only the mildly tacky feeling of manipulation.

"I'm sorry," she consoled, "but it wouldn't be very safe of me to ride around without it, don't you think?"

"Well…" Cody began, "Seeing as we're your  _heroes…_ " Simmons did not really like the way this was headed, "shouldn't we get some kind of reward?" He puckered his mouth and blew crudely-pantomimed kisses at her.

"Now listen here, y' little shite," Fitz huffed from behind her, having finally caught up, "She's been more than patient with you, but that's  _ours_  and you're to give it back right this minute."

"I don't see your name on it, Lady Gaga," Cody countered snidely, snickering at the rockstar wig. A suspicious slant invaded his brow. "How do I even know it's yours, anyways?"

She thought she saw Fitz rolling his eyes in concert with hers. She didn't want to spend any more time with these rude young men than she absolutely had to, and resolved to get the power core back forthwith.

Apparently, Fitz had the same idea. "Oh, for Pete's sake, just--" Suddenly he was around her, attempting to lunge for the device, but he stumbled a bit in the unfamiliar tall boots, and Cody jumped easily out of range. "Trey, think fast!" Cody hurled the power core at his brother, who caught it and whirled. "Later, suckers!"

The two sped off through the theater, dodging other patrons, and barreled through the heavy metal doors, disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of Fitz’s butt are inspired by that picture of Iain de Caestecker playing baseball. That’s for you, starbrightnights!  
> Thanks to StarryDreamer01 for her help with characterizing teenagers. :-)  
> Fitz’s habit of licking hands that are placed over his mouth is from a funny tumblr picture by agentsofbluth.  
> Thanks to amandajoyce118 for ~~existing~~ helping me with this chapter’s extra-subtle Labyrinth reference. Y'all see if you can spot it!  
>  New chapter will be out on Wednesday!  
> Thanks for reading. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

"C'mon, Jemma!" Fitz grabbed her arm and tugged her along, as fast as he could go in those boots, giving her quite an unfair view of his pert backside. She was suddenly craving peaches… "Simmons! We can't let them get away!"

They burst into a run, careening through the exit, and looked frantically across the small parking lot. They were in the middle of the city, buildings on all sides, hiding places everywhere.  _And who's better at hide and seek than a pair of kids?_  If only they were field agents, they might've been trained for this sort of thing. Thankfully, the activated power source was still glowing, a somewhat unusual beacon in the dark, and Simmons spotted it rounding a street corner a short way off. "There!"

Stumbling a bit over the uneven sidewalk, they took off in hot pursuit. Simmons dragged Fitz behind her, but neither of them had ever been particularly keen on cardio, and the boys had a head start. As they approached the intersection, she craned her eyes up and down the block, with little success. She did, however, catch sight of a policeman standing at the traffic light, and whipping out her SHIELD badge, approached him.

"Officer! Officer, did you see a pair of boys run by here?"

Fitz chipped in. "They'd be carryin' a sort of glow-in-the-dark hockey puck."

The cop's eyes glanced off her ID to linger on Fitz's strange clothing, his make-up, and the mask dangling from her fingers. He shrugged, polite but detached. "Sorry, miss, haven't seen anything like that tonight."

"Oh. Okay." She puffed out her cheeks and used the back of her hand to wipe a strand of hair stuck to her forehead. "Thanks anyway." They looked at each other, dejected, and moved away from the intersection. Struck by a rather unwelcome idea, Simmons hesitated. "Should we split up, do you think? You go down that way and I'll go the other direction?"

"No.  _No way_. What if we got lost from each other? Have y' never watched a horror film, Simmons?"

"Please. This is nothing like a horror film. And if we  _were_ in a film, it'd be one of those wild, nighttime romps through the middle of a bustling city."

"Alright, well, those usually involve some shady character with a gun at some point, so I don't know how I feel about that."

"Pssst. Hey, you. Hey."

Fitz jolted, flailing a bit as he turned to pinpoint the source of the interruption. It was a bedraggled old man, leaning against the side of a building, clutching at a bottle in a paper bag. He was haggard, with the look of someone who'd lived long, or hard, or both. He had spiderweb hair and a crushed-glass beard, and his clothes were tinted with dust and doldrums. A shaky arm beckoned at them to approach.

Fitz, still a bit jumpy, hung back and clutched at Simmons' arm. "Do not go over there! He could be a murderer."

"I doubt that," she whispered back. "Look at him -- the poor man's so weak he can't even walk over to us!" Fitz's eyes were bright, a function of his distress, so she reached out to give his wrist a quick squeeze. "Besides, we're running out of time."

She moved cautiously towards the old man, wrinkling her nose as the sour smell of a nearby dumpster tapped at the spot between her eyes. "Excuse me, sir? Did you see a pair of kids with a glowing green object?"

"Well…" he pulled on the syllable, "Maybe I did an' maybe I didn't. Memory's a tricky thing, ain't it?"

Simmons looked at him, worry beginning to accordion her brow. "Fitz," she turned slightly, waving him over, "Have you got any cash?" she muttered under her breath.

"'Nope. I spent my last fiver on Raisinets, which, as I recall, you never thanked me for."

"Because I got about three of them before you inhaled the rest!"

"Well you shouldn't have told me to hold the box!"

"Ugh, just--" Simmons turned back, fully frustrated. "Sir, if you can't help us, why did you call us over here?"

"I never said I couldn't help. Might be I know where those youngsters is. Might be I could even tell ya, 'cept my throat's so dry, hard t' git the words out." He tipped his paper sack on its side, and the merest trickle of liquid dripped out, naming it empty.

 _We don't have time for this._  She corralled a pleasant expression onto her face even as she nudged Fitz, leaning closer to speak softly. "Did you bring your flask?"

"And risk gettin' us kicked out of the theater?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "So you'll smuggle in alien-enhanced tech, but not alcohol? Honestly, Fitz!"

"Exactly, Jemma. I'd  _never_ work on a potentially harmful device while drinking. It's just not good operatin' procedure."

"Thirsty…" the man groaned, regaining their attention.

"There's a liquor store just there," Jemma observed quietly, bumping Fitz's shoulder and pointing to a sign a few doors down. She continued more loudly, "Sir, we'd be happy to get you something to drink. Any, er," she grimaced, "requests? Some water, perhaps?"

Fitz snorted behind her.

"Tell ya what," the fellow coughed out, fumbling a bit as he tossed his bottle into the alley behind him. "You bring me my favorite," he chuckled coarsely, " _libation_ … and I'll help ya find your friends."

Simmons suppressed an exasperated sigh. "And what would that be, sir?"

He startled her by wheezing out an enormous, misshapen smile. "Oh, you're gonna have to guess." The man seemed inwardly delighted, and her stomach garbled into a mélange of pity and impatience.

" _Please_ ," she was starting to lose her careful self-control, fingers twisting together tightly, "those boys could be in danger and we need to find them."

"Then guess  _fast_ , girlie. I'll even give you a hint -- I'm a  _little hoarse_."

 _He's crazy. This is pointless._  But they had to try. "Okay," she walked a few feet away to stand with Fitz, concern hollowing her cheeks. "Okay, it's like a puzzle, yeah? A riddle. We're good at those…" her hands went up to the sides of her neck.

"Amen to that, sister," he reassured. "Okay. What was the clue?"

"He said he's hoarse. And thirsty. All right." Jemma went into analytical mode. "Hoarseness can be caused by a number of factors-- it could be acid reflux, laryngitis, physical deformities of the vocal cords, nodules, cysts--"

Fitz was beginning to look a bit green when she mentioned cysts. "Well, are you sure it's an illness we're talkin' about? He wants us to bring him something to soothe his throat. Y' think we need to find him the right cough medicine or something?" He'd started pacing, hands pressing against the back of his waist. He stopped, snapped his fingers, and pointed. "The word he used was  _libation_ , which if I'm not mistaken, has somethin' to do with offerin' up sacrifices to gods and such… Jemma," Fitz's eyes had gone round with horror, "what if he wants us to bring him a  _horse_ to  _sacrifice_?"

"Hey, Sherlock and Watson," the man deadpanned, his raspy voice carrying. "It's Colt 45, okay? It's got a horse on the label." He pointed to an advertisement in the liquor store window. "See?" He scratched at his patchy white stubble before a racking cough shook through him. "Freakin' morons," he wheezed out.

FitzSimmons bustled to buy the drink in question, both kicking themselves for failing to see the answer. "I can't believe it was right in front of us," Simmons fretted, indicating the poster on the glass.

"Well, it's not our fault he was bein' so literal… c'mon, Watson."

"Me, Watson? I hardly think that's accurate," Simmons scoffed playfully, from under mock-dismissive eyebrows. "I've always pictured  _you_ as the sidekick."

She turned swiftly towards the alley before she could see the daggers Fitz was burning into her back.

-o-

The old man grabbed eagerly for the bottle.

"First things first." Fitz held the prize just out of reach. "Tell us what you saw."

"There were these two kids, see, sounded pretty much like you told that cop. Looked like they were running from someone." At Fitz's get-on-with-it gesture, the old man leaned his head back against the building. "They went down that alley," he gestured ambiguously backwards before claiming his liquid prize, "and I think they went into the hot pink door."

"Oh, that's just--" "Thank you for your help." They called simultaneously behind them as they charged into the narrow street, beelining for the highlighter-colored entrance. They were drawing near when the door in question flew open, exploding outward with a loud blare of throbbing music and spilling a multitude of patrons into the darkened street. They milled around, laughing and swaying, some still dancing, some humming or singing, most in the throes of various forms of intoxication They were all young, in their twenties, and they laughed with the carelessness that stems from perceived immortality and the capacity to stay awake for days. It was a bit odd, knowing she must be one of the oldest in the crowd, when she'd spent most of her life feeling like the youngest person in the room.  _Well, except for Fitz._  But they'd never been young quite like this. These people, in their freedom, their faces awash with pure enjoyment of each moment... it was this sort of innocence that SHIELD existed to protect. It was youth, and it was ignorance, and it was beautiful. A trio of girls sidled up to Fitz and petted his wig and his coat, much to the Scotsman's dismay.

"Please don't-- that's-- I'd prefer if you didn't--" he attempted, unsuccessfully, to reason past the wide-eyed affections and glassy  _ooohs_ and  _ahhhs_  of the women and men surrounding him.

Well, if they were going to touch her lab partner up --  _jealous -_ \- Simmons could at least get some information for his trouble. "Excuse me! Hello? Has anyone seen a pair of brothers carrying a glowing green cylinder?"

A wiry, spiky-haired girl with dark purple lipstick, not quite as tall as Jemma's nose, stopped her with a hand to the shoulder. She instinctively drew back, but the young woman didn't seem dangerous, just confused. " _Wow_..." Keeping a hand on Simmons, she began to drag her fingers over Fitz's cheeks, ignoring his attempt to recoil. "Face glitter... neat… you guys dressed up for a party? You lookin' for your friends? Why don't you hang out with me and my friends? We're," she nodded, comically serious, "awesome." She'd positioned herself in a way that was making it impossible for FitzSimmons to get past.

Despite her suspicion that this person, too, was under the influence of a mind-altering substance, Simmons decided to take a chance. She seemed friendly, after all, and might be able to offer some assistance. "Oh, thank you, we couldn't possibly, but can you help us find a couple of kids who took something of ours?" She explained the situation, describing the boys in the most specific detail she could, while the girl rocked languidly back and forth on her toes.

"Yeah, relax… no problem! I've got lots of friends." The girl, who'd introduced herself as Didi, hoisted herself up on a discarded crate, cupped a fingerless-gloved hand around her mouth and shouted above the noise, "Yo, people! These guys are lookin' for…" she remembered, "a pair of bros named Trey and Cody! They're like… carrying a bomb or something and don't even know it! Anyone see anything? Let's help 'em out, guys!"

Simmons had to give Didi credit, she'd misgauged how coherent the woman would be, and found herself a tad impressed by the authority in her high-pitched voice. The nearest people started to pass the message on, and before too long, small bursts of chatter had sprouted among the throng as everyone acquainted themselves with the situation.

"Should you need us…" Didi pulled out her phone and handed it to Simmons so they could exchange numbers, "my friends and I are hanging out downtown for a few more hours. We'll, you know, keep our eyes open and text you if we see anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… that was some premiere, huh, guys? Here. Here you go. Shhhh...
> 
> Read a little bit about baby science babies traipsing around the city in costume, getting up to all sorts of shenanigans. It'll make you feel better (I hope? Maybe not, I dunno, I'm not your mom.)
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Friday! :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Didi and her companions giggled off into the night, floating like perfume from an atomizer, or iridescent bubbles at a children's party, dancing away until the distance swallowed them whole. Unsure whether the "lookout brigade" would do much good, FitzSimmons circled around to the front entrance of the dance club and questioned the bouncer. His name tag said  _Bruce_ ; his face said  _don't look me in the face_. Bruce didn't bat an eye at their clothing, having seen far weirder in the queue of club-hoppers that gathered every weekend night. In fact, he didn't care much about anything except directing them to the  _back of the line, if you're not on the list you're not on the list_  - though he cooperated well enough when Fitz flashed his Sci-Ops badge. For once, the engineer imbued that quick flourish with just the right balance of assertiveness and impatience to signal ' _secret government business, no time for questions'_. Fitz so often fell on the "cranky" side of the line when he gave instructions, that the sight of him being swift and assertive preyed on Jemma, lighting her up like an ant under a magnifying glass.  _It's this June weather._  It wasn't.

"Two kids, that young? Nah. We boot'em if they're underage. No exceptions. And we haven't had any problems tonight outside the norm." Bruce crossed his meaty arms and went back to his wide-stanced sentry at the club doors, lazily intimidating like a bull mastiff draped over the porch steps.

Fitz looked at Simmons with something like hopelessness. "Well… what now?"

"We could start making our way back to the car, I suppose, and wait for Didi or her network to make contact…"

"Yeah. Or we could stop for a slice. I'm starvin'." Fitz indicated a hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor with a window that opened out onto the street for convenient purchasing.

Simmons reluctantly acknowledged she could probably stand to eat something as well. "I suppose some food wouldn't go amiss. Let's get to it, then."

They walked along the busy downtown avenue, munching their pizza and looking around a bit before admitting they had no idea where Cody and Trey had run off to.

"You really can't think where they might have gone?"

"Simmons, I'm in the dark as much as you."  _That's true enough._  Despite the streetlights and the glow from store windows, Simmons was thankful for the dim of night. She wasn't faring much better now in keeping herself from staring at Fitz as he walked -- with that arse like two adorable piglets snuggling under a blanket,  _oh God_ , where did that come from,  _none of this is remotely appropriate, Jemma_  -- and the constant pull-and-push inside herself was driving her up the wall. As unfair as her rational mind knew it was, she was taking her inner tension out on Fitz, snapping and bickering more than usual.

"You were a teenage boy once, Fitz," she pressed, raising her eyebrows. "Surely you must have  _some_ ideas. Just  _think_."

"You know me; I'm full of ideas," he shrugged, "but unless these boys are inventin' a robot to make uncloggin' the kitchen sink a mite less disgusting -- no, I don't think my teenage experience is gonna help us."

She rolled her eyes at that, and Fitz chewed thoughtfully on a slice of pepperoni, the tension in his shoulders hinting at some sort of internal struggle.

"Simmons," he started, "do you trust my powers of observation?"

Her brow knit together. "Come again?"

"You know, my attention to detail, whether or not I can interpret what I'm seeing and relay accurate results."

"Er… yes, of course-- what's brought this on?"

"So you respect my judgment?"  
Simmons looked over, melting a bit at the unsure expression on his face. Whatever was going through his head, she never wanted Fitz to feel like she didn't value him.

"Fitz." She leveled him with a reassuring stare. "We've been partners for years now. You're my best friend and the smartest person I know. You see things nobody sees, make connections anyone else would miss." He started to interrupt, and she drifted gentle fingers over his forearm, stilling his words. "I'm just being honest, Fitz. So what's this all about?"

"Earlier, those girls-- you  _could_ be a film star, Simmons."

She looked at him like he'd gone mental.  _What's he on about?_  "I don't  _want_ to be a film star. I like being in the lab."

He made an exasperated little noise in the back of his throat. "No, it's not-- I just mean-- you're--" he raked a hand over his neck, clearly flustered. "You're… pretty. In case you didn't know it, you should."

That drew her up short. "Oh."

Her first reaction was surprise.  _I know I'm pretty_. Her second was a painful dab of unquashable hope.  _Fitz thinks I'm pretty?_  But given the sheer difficulty he'd just shown in getting the words out, she wasn't sure it was meant as a compliment. Knowing Fitz, the statement was exactly what he'd described, an impartial observation of the data. Hardly grounds to assume he was nursing a crush.  _No_. Fitz saw her brain, not her body, and that was an acceptable status quo. _Even if I can't bring myself to return the favor._

Before she could respond, her phone shook in her pocket, pinging a text alert.

[Didi 22:49] check the arcade on 18th and main. two blocks north of the club

And a minute later, she got another.

[Didi 22:50] you can discover everything you need to know about everything by looking at your hands

Puzzled, she held up the screen for Fitz to read.

"What is that? Some kind of code?" Fitz asked, examining his hands in the city-light gloom.  _Don't look._  Simmons couldn't afford to be distracted right now. If she started staring at his bare hands --  _Christ, look at the length of those fingers -- damn it Jemma_ \-- she'd just end up with honeyed warmth in her chest and a regretful churn in her stomach, and they'd never get their power core back.

"I don't know, Fitz, but c'mon -- we've got to go."

* * *

It wasn't far to the arcade. FitzSimmons dashed inside, hoping their quarry had decided to stay and play instead of skipping through. The air was thick with the smell of puberty, the floor sticky and a bit damp under their feet, and her ears were immediately suffused with pings and beeps of all stripes. Electronic music blasted out of almost every game station and flickering neon swam across her eyes as she scanned the crowded room, the  _clink_ of quarters adding a cymbal clash to the already cacophonous orchestra of the room. This environment was all a bit too distracting, a mental stampede of elephants through Simmons' brain, but she forced herself to focus.

"Do you see them? Or the battery?"

"In this mess?  _Everything's_ bloody glowin', Simmons."

Just then they heard cheers coming from the Dance Dance Revolution setup. A crowd of spectators had gathered to witness a particularly skilled duo face off against each other.

"This plucky loser thinks he can take my title. Should we find out if he's right?" The loud, scornful gauntlet came from a loose-limbed woman, early twenties perhaps, with bold square glasses and twin onyx ponytails, who set off a new game as soon as she finished speaking without bothering to wait for her opponent's reply. He was a rail-thin, lightning-footed teen with a shock of long blue hair, dark at the roots and fading into a swampy-colored green further down. In stark contrast to the rest of his mane, the left side of his head was shaved completely bald. Both of them were dancing as if their lives depended on it, the concentration evident in their brows and mouths as they stared at the screen ahead, barely touching the pad under their feet as sneakers and combat boots flew across the large, symbol-stamped squares.

Simmons was reminded of a SHIELD training seminar she and Fitz had traveled to a few years before. The city had been going through a cricket infestation at the time; the little buggers were everywhere, swarming up the sides of buildings and hanging around exits, sleep-blockingly loud. When one had unexpectedly hopped into Fitz's shirt collar and skittered its way down his sleeve, he  _might_ have come close to imitating the jerky, hurricane movements of the two gamers up there.  _Might_. She was chuckling at the memory when she felt the buzz of a text-message alert at her hip, and whipped out her phone, wondering who it could be this late at night.

[Didi 23:07:00] if a bookstore never runs out of a book does that mean everyone reads it or nobody reads it

 _Strange girl._  She didn't know if she was meant to respond, and briefly wondered if it would be rude to avoid further contact now. But Didi  _had_ helped them to find the boys -- whom Simmons now glimpsed in the corner -- so she simply shook her head and put the phone away.

"Fitz!" She tucked her mouth next to Fitz's ear again, this time to avoid the need for shouting over the raucous din. If she happened to breathe in the  _suis generis_  scent that rolled off of him and shorted out her concentration -- mint and metal and musk and  _man -_ \- well, no one could blame her if she inhaled a bit more sharply than usual. "Cody and Trey at four o'clock."

They angled around to try and catch the boys off guard, but couldn't work their way into a good position to cut them from an exit. Simmons thought this might be what it felt like to do the sort of thing a SHIELD specialist got up to, not that she'd ever had many opportunities to do proper spy work.  _It might be fun, someday, to go out in the field._  Though she'd have to convince Fitz. He wasn't what one would call adventurous. He was, however, doing a fairly good job of flanking the youngsters without calling attention to himself -- no small feat considering the way he was dressed.

They came up behind the pair and Fitz clapped a hand on Cody's shoulder. "Hello, again."

The boys spun around, startled, and broke into a run when they saw the scientists. Simmons tried to follow, but the pair were small and quick, and they soon lost themselves among the crowd. It was only then that she noticed she'd been holding on to Fitz the entire time, or they might've been separated as well. She released him with a flush, embarrassment warring with disappointment when she realized that a couple of  _children_ had managed to evade them yet again.

"Where are they, Fitz? I can't see--" She'd never been particularly upset about being short, but was up on her toes, straining to see over the tops of the arcade patrons' heads, to no avail.

"Yeah, I can't either… Ah-- I've an idea." Fitz hopped up onto the now-empty DDR platform, using the height advantage to peer out into the room. Within seconds, the pigtailed woman from earlier jumped up next to him.

"We have a challenger!" she announced, a trash-talking edge scratching grooves into her proclamation. "Let's see if he can unseat the reigning queen!" She threw her hands up dramatically.

A roar went up as everyone turned to face them. Fitz whipped around to the girl, stuttering, "No, I just-- I wasn't trying to--"

"Hey, fancypants!" Trey shouted mockingly from off to the right. Simmons immediately started trying to make her way to him. "Let's see you dance!"

A girl to her left chimed in, "Yeah, show us your moves!" and a few others took up the cry.

Fitz squinted in the low light. "I think you've all got the wrong impression here--"

Simmons had reached the boys. "If he dances, are you going to give us back what you stole?"

Cody answered, ogling her through her tank top. "You mean, if he can beat Alma? Absolutely. But  _that'll_ never happen. Now, if  _you_ want to dance for me..." he wagged his eyebrows creepily, and she couldn't repress the shudder that came from his Bieberesque demeanor.

"Fitz!" she called up to her partner, if only to derail the conversation she was having with Cody. "They'll give it back if you win!"

She could see the nerves spreading through his body. Fitz had never been much of a dancer, but he did enjoy videogames and arcades, and she knew for a fact he'd owned this one in particular, though she'd never actually seen him play. Swallowing, he nodded to his competitor, and Alma set off a new round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, so I just want to say that I wrote this like two weeks ago, and I'M SORRY for the whole "Hey, Simmons, do you trust me to accurately interpret what I see with my eyes" business. Obviously I didn't know what we'd be dealing with now, and that exchange was just supposed to be a cute little compliment from Fitz to Simmons. So I hope it still made you _d'aww_ and not _d'oh_.
> 
> You may recognize Didi's odd text message, but that's all I'll say about it at the moment.
> 
> New chapter will be out on Sunday! :-)


	5. Chapter 5

An upbeat synthetic pop song exploded into the air as the game got underway. Alma was a whirlwind, tapping out each command like a hummingbird's wing, barely touching the pad with her raindrop moves, whereas Fitz… well, Fitz was doing much better than Simmons had anticipated, stomping a bit, and sliding around some, but for the most part, hitting the correct spaces on the mat. And looking up at him from this angle only served to remind her of what she was missing - the slight heel on those boots was making his buttocks stand at attention like a drill sergeant during morning review. It was unfair, she mused, for him to be this attractive. When they'd first met, he hadn't looked half this good, and she wondered now if she'd been an idiot all along. If they'd gotten together early on, when the stakes were low, it might all have been fine, but now… Now Jemma was fairly sure it was too late, too complicated to start something up with her best friend and professional partner, and uncertain whether Fitz even saw her that way.

Maybe it was her own fault for not developing a crush on Fitz until after he'd started seeing other girls. Or, when the subject had first come up all those years ago, perhaps she oughtn't have been so adamant in explaining  _exactly_ why workplace romances were a terrible idea. In hindsight, given that she spent nearly all her time at work, that attitude seemed a bit unrealistic. Fitz's glorious rear view was calling into question every responsible choice she'd ever made, and she wished for what seemed like the hundredth time that their lives could be different, that they worked somewhere without such strict regulations, or didn't have  _quite_ so much to lose.

Jeers and  _boos_ erupted around her as she tore her eyes away from Fitz's assets to see him stumbling down from the stage, headed towards her with his face turned down in shame.  _Or he could just be watching where he steps in those boots_. Simmons had a brief twinge of remorse for making him wear them, but if she was being honest, she didn't feel that bad about it. They completed the Jareth ensemble perfectly.  _Not to mention the miracles they're performing on his bum._

"Fitz… it's all right," she clucked, petting his arm in an attempt to soothe whatever misplaced negativity was running through his head. "You did brilliantly, considering."

"Y'know, I could've beaten her score."

"I'm sure you could have."

"I've got that game at home, I'm actually not bad--"

"Of course not."

Fitz was getting increasingly agitated "-- and I would've won, but you had to go and put me in these  _bloody stilettos_ , Simmons, what the Hell? Are these even men's shoes?"

"Don't be absurd, Fitz, that's barely a heel. Spanish dancers have to cope with much worse."

"Do I  _look_ like a ruddy flamenco dancer, woman?"

"Oh, shush." He did, a bit. It was the the boots giving him that maddeningly provocative posture, like a matador, the effect even more sultry now when he was a bit angry. Which might be a tad disturbing in its own right, if she'd paused to think it through.

"Don't tell me to shush --  _you_ need to shush." He grumbled more softly now, trying to hold on to his bad mood. "Expectin' me to win in heels, like I can do bloody dance  _magic_ or something."

"Dance magic?" Simmons couldn't stop the rosy smile that flowered across her cheeks. "Aww, Fitz. You really  _were_ watching." She dropped a quick kiss in front of his ear before her brain could intercede. A second later, she was struck by the panicked notion that while they'd been arguing over footwear…

" _Criminy!_  Where did they go?"

-o-

Thankfully, they spotted them quickly this time, just on their way out the front doors, waving around the power source like a sparkler. It was glowing blue-green, sending up a few hazy, floating motes into the air around it.

"Fitz?"

"Mm-hmm?"

She pointed at the power source, tugging Fitz along behind her. "Look how it's glowing. Was it--" she tried to think of the best description, " _spluttering_  like that before?"

"... Nope." Neither of them said what they were thinking -- but they needed to get the core back before it destabilized even further.

Simmons swept into pursuit, Fitz at her back, and together they followed the kids out onto the sidewalk before getting caught up in a maze of alleys, turning onto random city streets until she had no idea how they were going to get back to their car.

"Why aren't these kids in bed already?" wheezed Fitz, as they paused briefly to catch their breath and get their bearings. "There should be a law."

Simmons' phone buzzed again and she pulled it out, only to find two missed texts from Didi.

[Didi 23:22] if newborn babies could speak they would be the most intelligent beings on planet earth

[Didi 23:40] most trees are blue

She turned to Fitz, chuckling, "Look at…" and trailed off, immediately noticing a difference. "You took your wig off." As much as she adored Fitz's natural curls, she couldn't help the tiny note of disappointment that ran through her now that he'd killed the illusion a bit.

Fitz looked slightly incredulous. "It's hot as blazes, Simmons, runnin' around all night chasin' after these hooligans, and it was itchy too. Did you expect me to keep it on?"

"No, no, of course not, it's just… you had the whole…  _look_ …" she gestured vaguely at his entire costume, trying not to blush. In the end, it was her pout that must have given her away.

"Simmons," he cast a wry, discerning look her way, "have y' got a  _thing_ for the Goblin King?"

She started to protest that she'd never be silly enough to fall for a fictional character, when a thought crossed her brain like a police siren --  _Better than Fitz figuring out I fancy_ _ **him**_ _._  She shrugged unapologetically. "So? You've a giant crush on Natalie Portman."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He waved his hands in front of him before placing them in their standard cradles at the back of his waist. "Not the same thing. Jareth is a psychopath! And a kidnapper! Good grief, Simmons, what's goin' on in that head of yours?"

"He is  _lonely!_ " she retorted defensively, her voice beginning to rise in pitch and velocity, "And she  _asked_ him to kidnap her brother, it's not like he just woke up one day and said, 'I'm going to take babies away from their families because I'm  _such_ a horrible person' and did you even see how upset he was when…" she cut off at the sight of Fitz openly laughing at her. "Oh, hush, you. I'm not going to make apologies for liking what I like."

Fitz was gazing at her, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Shaking his head fondly, he heaved an exaggerated sigh and tugged the wig back up over his hair, patting it into place. "If it's that important to you…" He pointed a finger at her as if he could read her mind. "Just-- try to keep your hands off me?"

She rolled her eyes, and turned her head away, throwing a crumpled receipt at his face without looking, when a flicker of movement and a flash of aquamarine light caught her eye.

"Damn! How did they get that far ahead? Come on!" she tugged him up by his sleeve and all but dragged him along behind her.

* * *

Cody and Trey had taken a hard left into a 24-hour fitness center, with Fitz and Simmons half a block behind them. They couldn't see where the kids had gone once they pushed open the large glass doors, but the minute they stepped in, a pleasant-but-rehearsed greeting floated through the air at them. "Hi, welcome to AlwaysFit! I'm Tim. Would you folks be interested in a 30-day risk-free trial membership?"

Fitz was the first to look twice at the man behind the front desk.

" _Tim?_ "

The beefcake in question looked up from his brochure.  _No wonder Trey and Cody snuck past him, he's not even watching the door._ "Whoa… Fitz? Curvewrecker? What are you wearing?" He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I mean, long time no see! What's up, man?"

Fitz tinged pink at the use of his old nickname, which he'd earned easily enough once Simmons had encouraged him to focus on schoolwork instead of coasting on his natural intelligence and ability. She knew it had rubbed some of the other students the wrong way when he'd unseated them for the top spot, but at the time she was so intent on nurturing her own competitive streak that she hadn't found it in her to care.  _I'd let Fitz wreck_ _ **my**_ _curves, at any rate._ Good grief. She needed to stop thinking this way about her (almost certainly) platonic best friend.

Simmons was also hit with a memory of where she'd seen this dark-haired Adonis before, and instantly flushed at the recollection of his sweaty, bare pectorals, his defined abdominals, his exceptional biceps… really, the whole upper-body situation was superb. This was Tim from the gym at the Academy, who'd been a classmate of Fitz's their first year. They'd seen him a few times at the Boiler Room, as well, though Simmons' powerful embarrassment had prompted her to avoid speaking to him on those occasions.

"And Fitz's cute friend! How you doin' -- still selling deodorant?" Tim's lunar-white smile was evidence enough that he was taking the mickey. "We stock the lockers here -- could probably set you up with a buyer…"

 _Oh, god._  She didn't think she could be much redder. "No thank you, but you  _can_ help us. Did you see a pair of teenagers come in here just now?"

"Oh, uh… sorry… I was talking to some of the members and only just got back to reception. You're welcome to look around though." From the way Tim's eyes were straying even now to a redhead in tight Lycra on the Stairmaster, Jemma wondered if "talking" to the clients hadn't involved a few chat-up lines.

"Thanks, mate… you still workin' for SHIELD?" Fitz's brow was quirked a bit in perplexity.

"Sure, I'm at Sci-Ops, I just moonlight here for extra cash… you know how it is… government salary." Tim looked a bit sheepish, piquing Simmons' interest.

"We're at Sci-Ops as well!"

"Oh, uhhh… you won't tell anyone about me working here, will you?" She knew there were various clauses in their SHIELD contract limiting outside employment, though she hadn't realized that they were so strict as to prevent taking another job as different as this was.

Fitz and Jemma scouted the room, peering past late-night joggers on the treadmills, new moms on the ellipticals and what might have been street people headed towards the shower, until their eyes found their target. The boys were up against a back door, shoving at each other a bit, grappling with the handle but getting nowhere. FitzSimmons moved slowly, attempting stealth.  _We've got them now._

Unfortunately, they weren't quite surreptitious enough. Startling into action, the two youths ran in opposite directions, taking advantage of their mad scramble and the general confusion of the room's layout, ducking behind weight machines and taller equipment. Dodging around obstacles, FitzSimmons dashed after Trey and Cody until the latter kicked over a rack of yoga balls, sending them rolling towards the scientists. The boys hurriedly retreated behind the wall of bouncing hurdles, allowing the commotion to cover their return to the main doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... y'all starting to see a pattern to Didi's texts? Yup.
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta Amanda for letting me use the conversation about having feelings for fictional characters from one of her stories.
> 
> Thanks to StarryDreamer01, MadameMare, and TheLateNightStoryteller for their feedback about teenage boys. Ugh. Teenage boys, amirite?
> 
> For anyone who was confused, Tim first showed up in Oh To Be Young, in a "Jemma tries to lie" scene. His full name is Tim Lee Higginbotham and he's actually very sweet. Did you need the extra info? Probably not. :-) But I love thinking up extra background on my characters that I never use, so there you go.
> 
> (Incidentally, we're about 3/5 of the way through this story at this point.) Next chapter will be up on Tuesday! Lots more midnight shenanigans still to come!


	6. Chapter 6

And then they were off again, into the night, with FitzSimmons a few steps behind. She spared one last guilty glance at Tim, her ingrained sense of politeness aghast at leaving him with such a mess to pick up.  _We may well need to purchase a membership, to make it up to him._  Perhaps a dose of furious exercise would help her vent some of her physical frustration. She was in a cage of her own making, to be sure, but that knowledge didn't stop her from being in love with her best friend, who was smart and sexy and completely worthy of her, when she couldn't do anything about it. She'd gone over the reasons in her head a million times, and it made sense to err on the side of keeping Fitz next to her in a professional capacity. But it still stung sometimes that she couldn't have her cake and eat it, too.

She  _wanted_ to have it all with Fitz, to hide inside his breath, to burrow under his skin and take refuge in the sound of his heartbeat against her ear. She wanted to explore the edges and corners and spaces of them, to learn his geography even as he dismantled her like a machine with his able, eager hands. But outside of occasionally letting her thoughts carry her off like this, her rational brain knew that there were too many  _ifs_ for her to shatter the boundary between  _want_ and  _should_.

Simmons let out a breath, a hot puff of air that wafted back into her face, and channelled herself wholeheartedly into the chase.

* * *

[Didi 00:09] people think a relationship makes you whole, that it's two 50%'s coming together to make 100% when it should be two 100%'s making 200%

Sighing, Simmons tucked her phone back in her pocket. She should probably just blacklist the number, but that last one actually kind of made sense.  _Kind of. Let's not go overboard._  Certainly she and Fitz weren't half as good separately, they'd each done well enough before teaming up, but there was no denying that together they were twice as smart.

"Well? What now?" Fitz's question pulled her to the task at hand.

The boys had scaled a rickety fence into what appeared to be a huge abandoned lot full of… well, junk. Fitz had been limping a bit since the arcade, saying nothing but obviously uncomfortable, and she now felt terrible that the only knee-high boot she'd been able to find him was in such a narrow style.

"You stay here, Fitz, I'll go up."

"What? No! We'll both of us go, or neither. Simmons, I am not getting separated in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar city."

"But you can't climb the fence, not in those shoes. Look, I won't go far, yeah? You can still hear me. And we've got our phones. Now give me a boost."

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped up to Fitz and put her hands on his shoulders, exerting a light pressure downwards.

"Well? Aren't you going to offer me a foothold?" She tried to ignore the way his blue eyes were catching the glow from the streetlamp, his gaze tattooing her with its proximity.

Fitz scowled, but laced his fingers together and held out his hands in a makeshift step. Simmons used the leverage to get a foot up onto his shoulder and grab hold of the metal fence.  _Perhaps I could be a field agent after all._  Until she immediately wobbled, grappling at the fence with her hands, attempting to toe into the wire but succeeding only in kicking poor Fitz in the side of the head.

"Hey--  _hey!_ " Simmons could hear the censure in his voice --  _He can't possibly think I did it on purpose?_  - but despite everything, Fitz was holding fast to her legs, attempting to steady her as she got her bearings, rearranging his grip as he attempted to compensate for her shifting balance.  _Don't think about where his hands are. Especially don't think about where they_ _ **could**_ _be._  She was far too uncoordinated already without the distraction of his roaming grasp.

She made it over the top of the fence, gracelessly dropping down on the other side and landing in a crumple. The tall, random piles of scrap and around her made walking difficult, and she was incredibly glad she'd insisted Fitz stay on level ground.

"Okay, I'll scout and locate Cody and Trey, and text you which direction they're heading so you can come around the lot. If I see the gate, I'll call over and let you in. You've got your phone on?" She pulled out her own mobile and exhaled in worry. "Damn. 6%."  _Curse Didi and her sodding faux existentialism._  She turned it off to conserve the battery. "It should be enough to send out a text once I've found them."

"No. No way, Simmons. What if you broke an ankle in there and couldn't call for help?"

"Fitz, the chances of--"

"No, that's far too dangerous. Here." Fitz reached through the fence and grabbed her cell. He then connected a cable between them. Within seconds, Simmons phone was at 50% power.

"Is that the…"

Fitz grinned and scrubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I finally got it to work."

"But what about your phone… won't this drain it?"

"A bit." He shrugged. "I didn't bring you up to full charge; this way we're both sort of midway. Now go on, before I change my mind about stayin' out of there."

She waved to him through the metal links and clambered off to search for the brothers.

-o-

A few minutes of searching the lot had Simmons totally lost and woefully out of her depth. It was a much bigger space than she'd anticipated, and she'd broken line of sight with Fitz almost immediately. But it was when she could no longer hear him, muttering to himself in his fretful burr, that set her apprehension to simmering. She sent off a quick text to reassure herself:

[Simmons 00:21] lost track of you; everything okay? no sign yet of c or t

Upon hitting send, she found she'd missed yet another message from Didi.  _Oh, for the love of…_

[Didi 00:14] lately people call me scoop life

 _That's it_. She went into the menu to block Didi's number; she couldn't afford to let these texts eat up her battery, not when she was relying on her phone to provide a lifeline to Fitz. Before she could complete the command, however, a touch at her elbow made her jump about a mile high.

"What're y' doin' here all alone at night, honey? You lost?"

Simmons jerked her head around to see an old woman, shorter than Jemma or stooped enough as to give that effect, tugging at her sleeve. Simmons couldn't believe she'd been so consumed with contacting Fitz that she hadn't even noticed her approach. She had a walnut of a face, and her too-loud breathing klaxoned through the air like a TARDIS. At her side was a rusting, dented shopping cart full of odds and ends, and at her back, an improvised lean-to composed of rough aluminum siding, cardboard, and what appeared to be a torn-off car hood.  _Oh._  It seemed the woman hadn't come very far to speak to Jemma, after all.  _I've probably woken the poor dear up with my stomping._

"Erm, no, ma'am, I'm just looking for some kids… two boys, about fourteen and nine? They have something that belongs to me and I need it back."

"Haven't seen anyone like that, sug, but what is it you're after? I got lots of nice things here…" she rummaged through her sweater pockets and came up with a beat-up teddy bear, threadbare in patches. She shoved the bear into Simmons' hands, and she tamped down her recoil at the oily feeling on the plush surface. A couple of sad, loose stitches on its face were the only evidence of the bear ever having eyes, and the sight of the worn, abandoned thing caused Simmons' heart to twist unexpectedly.  _Someone loved this once_. "Thank you…" she murmured, perching the teddy back on top of the piled-up contents of the cart, "but I'm afraid I really just need to find those boys."

"Go on, sweetie, take somethin'. Don't refuse an old woman."

"I really must be off… erm, I don't suppose you know where the gate to this lot is?"

"Right over there, hon. Now you take this sweet little friend with you. He's been lonely, waitin' for someone t' give him a home…" The lady pushed the stuffed animal back into Simmons grasp, and rather than fight over it, she nodded, reaching into her back pocket and finding a couple of dollar bills.

"Thank you for your help, ma'am. Have a nice night."

"You too, dear. Bless your heart."

Simmons threw back a wave before casting her eyes back to her precarious footing. She debated whether or not to set down the bear once she was out of eyeshot, but assumed the old lady would find it, and she didn't want to hurt her feelings. Huffing, she wrapped the dirty thing in her Hoggle mask, covering the old toy in latex to keep from having it touch her skin before tucking the bundle at her lower back, snug between her belt and the waistband of her trousers.

When Simmons reached the gate, she'd still caught no sign of the youths, but the boggart crouching in the pit of her stomach was the fact that Fitz wasn't returning her texts or calls. She needed to make sure he was all right -- for all her confidence earlier, they  _were_ alone in an unfamiliar city at an ungodly hour, and she couldn't bear to think of any harm coming to him.  _Oh, why did we have to split up?_

"Fitz!" she called into the night, but it was like tossing a stone into quicksand, the sound lost completely, not even an echo to mark its passing.  _Please be okay._  She pulled and wriggled herself through the gap between the fence and the pole. The alligator in her throat wracking up her nerves had just closed its jaws on her windpipe, when she felt the familiar vibration of her message alert.  _That had better not be bloody Didi._

It wasn't.

[Unknown Number 00:35] fitz here. my phone died. i've got trey but not cody. we're on the southwest side of the lot. see you soon.

Simmons' brow quirked in befuddlement. Why was Fitz hanging out with the younger brother? Had he recovered the device? To be quite honest, at that moment she was so grateful that he wasn't hurt, she didn't care to waste time on the details. She did, however, spare a second to be moved by the fact that Fitz knew her phone number by heart, despite not having needed it for years.

The GPS on her mobile was enough to get her where she needed to go, and she soon found herself skipping towards Fitz and Trey on the street corner.

"You berk!" she glared, giving Fitz an unsubtle swat on the arm. "You  _did_ wear out your mobile battery." She grabbed his phone and swiped ineffectually at the screen. "Oh, Fitz. You have  _no_ power. What were you thinking?"

Fitz fixed her with an defensive moue. "Oh, I don't know, Simmons, that if I got in trouble out here, I could probably find help or a pay phone, but  _you_ , locked inside that complex, sharp metal underfoot and all manner of hazards around…" he trailed off, flushed.

She locked onto his eyes, staring him down, wondering if she could stand to be angry with him over this. It was just…  _easier_ to be angry, instead of… whatever this was. "Fine." She handed him back his phone, along with hers. "Charge yours back. And from now on we are  _not_ getting separated again."

Fitz's face took on an incredulous cast. "For Christ's sake, Simmons,  _I_ was the one who said--" he bit down his annoyance and hooked up the phones.

Trey took that opportunity to contribute. "You guys are dumb. Are we gonna go find my brother or what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole “twice as smart together” was a reference to the deleted scene from Seeds, “Simmons had boyfriends.”
> 
> Simmons awkwardly climbing up Fitz is a little bit inspired by that similar scene in Harry Potter, I can’t remember exactly which of the final movies it was, but you probably know the scene I’m talking about.
> 
> Okay, so I didn’t meant to make anyone think too hard about the Didi texts. They’re just for comedy -- don’t fret over whether or not they have some deep, meaningful connection. Either way, I’ll reveal “the big mystery” (it’s not; it’s so lame, you guys) next chapter.
> 
> Last chapter’s Labyrinth references were the dance scene and mention of “dance magic”, the “maze” of alleyways, and getting a bunch of yoga balls rolling towards them. This section contains a few more nods to the movie. Care to guess what they are?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! New chapter’ll be up on Thursday (or Friday -- Thursdays are pretty busy for me).


	7. Chapter 7

They were heading away from the city center, but Trey seemed to know exactly where he was.

"So… explain?" Simmons gestured between Fitz and the kid.

Fitz heaved a rueful breath and launched into the story… "Well, just after you disappeared, I spotted  _this_ punk with his brother," he motioned to Trey, "coming back around- I guess they'd meant to throw us off their scent and backtrack. Only…"

"Only they didn't count on you being outside."

"Exactly. So these little ninjas," he pointed to the nine-year-old, "I swear, I don't know what they're teachin' kids in PE these days-"

"Parkour," Trey cut in sassily.

"- they're nearly over the fence, and I was bein' sneaky so they hadn't spotted me-"

"Yes we had, but we run faster than you," the boy muttered.

"-and this numpty got stuck on a bit of metal and dropped the pow- erm, I mean, the bicycle light."

Simmons felt her face go taut as she took all of this in. "Well? Did you get it?"

"No," Trey interrupted, the heat in his young voice making his eyes flash. "Cody grabbed the light and ran off. I was just  _hanging_ there, on the fence." He looked down at the sidewalk. "He's a butthead sometimes."

Fitz shrugged, agreeing. "I would've said  _rat bastard_ , but fair enough."

Trey giggled, the sound high and strange to Simmons' ears. "You're weird. I'm gonna tell Cody you said that." He kept on laughing, most likely sillier than usual due to lack of sleep. "Rat bastard."

"And where exactly are we headed?" Simmons murmured, falling back slightly and leaning over to speak to Fitz a bit more privately.

"He said their dad owns a furniture warehouse near here? The kid claims to know where he's goin', anyway."

"Hey! Hey guys! What're you guys talking about? Is it a secret? Is it grown-up stuff? Are you guys on a date? Is that why you're dressed so weird?"

Trey was the Energizer bunny, wired from staying up and bouncing from one foot to the other, skipping a circle around FitzSimmons as he tried to slow himself to the hobbled pace of their aching feet.

"Was he like this while you were waiting together?" Simmons grinned, more curious than annoyed. It was possible she'd misjudged the young man based on her reaction to his sibling.

"Kind of a pest, isn't he?" Fitz stopped short to avoid a run-in. "Can y' just walk like a human being? Not some kind of… caffeinated kangaroo?"

Trey stopped circling and started walking backwards, occasionally switching to the moonwalk. "So what'd you guys do for your date, huh? Dinner and a movie? What'd you eat?"

Simmons chuckled. "It's not a date," she answered, at the same time that Fitz said, "Pizza."

Her eyes widened, and Fitz quickly corrected himself. "Erm, I meant- yeah. 'S not a date. We're just friends."

"Cool. I have a couple friends who are girls. You play baseball? My friends are on the baseball team with me."

FitzSimmons' only experience with the national pastime had been a mandatory SHIELD team-building activity, and to be perfectly honest, the only part of the day she'd truly enjoyed was the image of Fitz in a baseball uniform. But she smiled and responded quietly, "On occasion." Simmons supposed she should probably turn the line of questioning back to Trey, before he got too curious. Working for a secret organization didn't lend itself to chitchat about their day. "So what else do you do for fun?"

-o-

"You expect us… to  _what?!"_ Fitz's tone was getting sharp, displaying a hint of the shrill note he typically reserved for spider sightings and mortal peril. They were in a narrow alley, the small space cluttered with a standard lidded dumpster, surrounded on three sides by piles of broken and discarded furniture.

"It's not hard," Trey protested, "You just climb up on this heap and get over to the ledge and then you just scoot till you reach the window! Don't worry, it's got a loose latch." He pantomimed each step of the process with his hands. "See? Simple."

"Oh, sure. As simple as fallin' to your ruddy death." His grimace was carved into his face now.

"Cody does it all the time!" Trey assured them, puffing up in pride. "He's brave though."

"I'm brave," muttered Fitz under his breath, "I just also happen t' be skilled at a little thing called risk assessment."

"Come  _ooon,_  you gotta do it, I'm not tall enough to reach the ledge from the top of the heap."  _Ah, there it is. Whinging. Yes. Children are not the little angels we make them out to be in storybooks._

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Simmons shook her head in disbelief, "Will you two stop? The solution is perfectly obvious…"

" _No_ , Jemma," Fitz turned to her, alarmed, "You're no more of a gymnast than I am, and  _that_ ," he pointed to the pile of beams, particle board and rubble, "is not structurally stable in the slightest. It's a wonder these two haven't broken their necks already, if they've been makin' a habit of jumpin' off it."

"I wasn't suggesting  _I_ go up there." The tent of Simmons' brow spelled out  _Are you crazy?_  "I'd have to be Agent Romanov to make it across that gap."

"Who's that?" Trey piped up, and Simmons silently cursed her wagging tongue.

"Er…"  _Crumbs._  "Someone who's very acrobatic."

"Like a circus performer?"

 _Why not._  "Yes! She is… like that," she nodded slowly, to punctuate her answer. Fitz came to her rescue.

"So what's that y' were sayin' about an obvious solution?"

"Oh! Right. Trey, sweetheart," she implored with a small smile, "Could you be a darling and call your brother?"

She waited a beat for him to dial before taking the phone.

"What happened to you, loser? Need me to come get you? Where you at?" Cody's lazy syllables came through the receiver as if they physically stank.

"Hello, Cody."

"What the f- lady, how'd you get my brother's phone?! You better give that back or I'm gonna call the cops."

"Nonsense. Calm down and listen. You've something of ours, we have something of yours. I propose a trade. Does that sound fair?"

"You kidnapped my baby brother? I'm definitely calling the cops. I'm not afraid of you."

"Stop, Cody. Just stop. First of all, you have no idea where we are, because you  _abandoned_ your brother in a  _junkyard_ in the  _middle of the night_ , so why don't we see what the police have to say about that?" She let the implication linger.

"Oooooh, Cody, she told  _you_!" Trey called towards the phone from where he was perched on a busted entertainment center laid out on its side.

"Right," Simmons continued. "Why don't you open up the warehouse and we can sort this out."

The building was huge, with a whimsical false front of turrets, parapets and flags, and the name  _Castillo Furniture_  emblazoned high over the front entrance. But the door Cody unlocked, thankfully, let out into the alley where they were already standing. The teenager stood there, pouting, and immediately started sniping at his little brother.

"I can't believe you got yourself caught, jeez, Trey." He took a step out and motioned to the boy. "C'mon. I got the Playstation set up in the office."

Trey hopped down and started towards the door, but Fitz intercepted, shifting himself to stand next to Cody in the doorframe. Fitz was no Sasquatch, but he was still of a height with Cody, and in the six years since she'd met him, Fitz had filled out. As a result, the broad line of his shoulders gave his frame an intimidation factor that simply wasn't there on the younger guy.

"Hold on just a second. I believe we had a deal?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Cody, "I left it in the back."

Fitz put his toe across the jamb and crossed his arms. "Then let's go get it, shall we?"

-o-

They trekked through the dim warehouse, tall bunk beds and bookshelves and mirrored vanity tables casting their path into ominous shade. Trey skipped up ahead with his brother, FitzSimmons all but ignored as he chattered energetically on about the night's adventures. They were crossing a wide central aisle near the large front doors, when, from off to her right, she thought she saw a flicker of movement.  _Is there someone else here?_

But before she could even reach out to tug Fitz into a halt, a shadowy silhouette suddenly jerked heavily toward them, angling an enormous -  _is that an_ _ **axe**_ _?_  - down towards her head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mention of Fitz shrieking at spiders was inspired by a tumblr post. If you are jonesing for more Fitz-is-afraid-of-spiders (*Chandler impression* Could he BE any more Ron Weasley?) you should check out "The Not So Itsy Bitsy Spider" by TheLateNightStoryteller and "these leftover feelings of you" by leopolds & Anthropologicality.
> 
> Also, oof, that was some episode promo, huh guys? I'm so excited to find out what's really going on with Jemma. Fingers crossed!
> 
> Oh, and I'm terrible at planning out chapters, but best guess, there are 2 or 3 left.  
> Next chapter up on Sunday!


	8. Chapter 8

She froze, hearing Fitz's velociraptor screech, her heart suspended like an egg yolk in its shell, unable to find even the time to duck before the flimsy plastic halberd bounced harmlessly off her head. Ahead by a few steps, Trey and Cody doubled over in laughter. Next to Jemma, an 8-foot tall animatronic suit of armor slowly raised its weapon as a recorded voice announced, "None shall pass… on these great savings!"

After a moment, Fitz stopped gripping her arm like a life raft and turned to her. "Y'all right?"

"Yeah," she scrunched her mouth, rubbing the top of her hair. "Just a fright."

"It's not supposed to drop the axe on people," Trey giggled, "but Cody and me moved it last week. Dad hasn't noticed yet."

"Shut up, fartface!" Cody shoved at the younger boy, knocking him off-balance but not putting a damper on his laughter.

Fitz rolled his eyes and heaved an annoyed breath. "Come on, less talkin'," he said as his arms made  _shoo-shoo_  gestures and his voice dropped to a whisper, "more… not explodin'."

-o-

When they got to the central staircase, Fitz groaned softly, his limp becoming slightly more pronounced, but he put his hand on the rail and visibly pushed aside the discomfort.

"How are your toes?" Simmons knew he'd have blisters for days.

"I'm fine," he gritted out, doing his best to keep pace with the boys. "I don't want to let that little arsehole out of my sight again, who knows what other tricks he's got up his sleeve?"

Simmons chuckled humorlessly. "For two of the brightest minds in our field, we certainly seem to have let a pair of children outwit us tonight…"

Fitz made a sour face, but relaxed after a moment, slowing briefly. "Let's let the story stay between us, then, agreed?"

"Agreed. Telling anyone would undoubtedly land us in trouble with Sci-Ops, regardless, and to be honest? I don't know if people would believe us. It's been quite an evening." She smiled as she said it, considering the fact that in their line of work, the esoteric and extraordinary were practically humdrum.

"Yeah. Yeah, good. We share this with no one, then." Fitz smiled, close-mouthed but genial, and reached out to squeeze her fingers in his own.

She wrinkled her nose back at him. "Classified information. Clearance level: FitzSimmons."

She was so caught in staring at the way his features were cut into relief by the shadows, his nose stronger, his jaw more defined, that she heard rather than saw the enormous beanbag chair bouncing down the steps towards them. "Fitz! Look out!" She launched herself to the side as Fitz flattened himself in the other direction, and the beanbag tumbled harmlessly past.

"Not funny, children!" He shouted up at the brothers, who were laughing hysterically from the second story platform. They ignored his grousing and started tossing down a barrage of cushions, pillows, the occasional crib mattresses or wedge, and a bevy more beanbag chairs.

"Hey, stop-- stop that!" Fitz yelled, struggling to ascend the staircase despite the volley of projectiles coming their way.  _Still better than a footrace._  Jemma didn't think Fitz could stand another bout of running after them, not with the way he was shifting his weight. She vowed to fix a soaking bath for his aching feet the minute they got back to his flat.  Given the late hour, she’d probably end up kipping on his sofa again, so it would be a simple enough gesture -- as long as Fitz didn’t spoil it with his awkward chivalry and his reluctance to accept kindness.

The missile strike finally eased enough for Simmons to reach the top of the steps, Fitz close behind her.

"Come on, they can't very well hide from us up here," she reassured him, as they advanced on the pair.

It wasn't easy to spot the boys out on the dim, muffled sales floor, but up here in the loft-style second level, there weren't as many places for them to have gone. They headed resolutely to what could only be the manager's office, identifiable, among other things, by the thin rectangle of electric light bordering the closed door.

Which, when she pushed it inward, revealed no sign of Cody or Trey. Or the power core. Simmons sighed heavily as Fitz tipped his head back and pinched at his nose, before dragging the wig off his head so he could scrub his hand over his forehead through his hair.

"You stay here," she pointed to a nearby display couch. "I'll hunt about. They've got to be close by, I'm sure we'd have heard footsteps if they'd gone back down the stairs."

Fitz flopped gratefully down, tossing his wig onto the cushion next to him. "Okay. Just for a minute." He lifted his right foot up onto his left knee and looked down at it as if disappointed in its report card. "How long do y' think it'll take to walk back to the car?"

Simmons let the pang of commiseration ring out in her voice. "We may not need to walk," she clucked, "we could call a cab, or I saw a bus stop on the way here… why don't you look that up while I search for the kids?"

Fitz reached into his pocket and pulled out both their phones. "You should take this back; I've got us both at 30%. Hey," he glanced up at her, some unknown emotion clouding his brow, "I'm sorry I got us into this mess." He cleared his throat. "And, er, you've got a new text message."

Taking her mobile back, Simmons read the latest from their 'philosophical' friend.

[Didi 01:49] how can mirrors be real if our eyes aren't real

Simmons rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's just about enough of that." Didi's particular brand of wisdom was starting to rankle her, and the way she kept texting was relentless. She was beginning to remind Jemma of a yappy little dog on a trampoline, constantly appearing over the top of the backyard fence, or always running at passers-by. She flicked through her phone screen, configuring the settings to ignore any further nuggets of enlightenment. Truth be told, she wasn't sure Didi would even remember them tomorrow.

-o-

Simmons crept through the darkened warehouse, sneaking around living room sets and ducking behind armoires. She felt a bit like Snow White going through the haunted forest, only hers was a forest of hat trees and coat trees, surrounded by jutting angles and tall patches of blackness. She slowed her breathing, crouching down to listen carefully, and thought she detected the sound of whispered admonishments off to her right. Footfalls quiet as snowbanks, she worked her way towards the source, her route indirect enough so as not to tip them off. As she inched past a large four-poster bed, the glowing power component suddenly came into view.

It was no longer merely glowing. Now the disc seemed to have a nimbus around it, a blurry aqua line chasing it as it moved through the air.  _That can't be good_. The boys, of course, were delightedly shaking it about to see if they could maximize the effect, tracing letters in the still air and drawing anatomically unlikely breasts.

"No, stop!" Simmons ran at them. Jumping up from their hiding place, they set off in a haphazard scramble, leaping over the backs of loveseats and bouncing off the tops of coffee tables.

"You've got to give that back, it's dangerous! Trey! Trey, love! You trust me, right?" Simmons was chasing them to the best of her ability, but she was no child, amped on life and sugar and the thrill of a new game.

When she nearly crashed into the pair, she saw what had halted them. Fitz had managed to create a blockade of larger furniture pieces, trapping them rather effectively. She  _tsked_ internally at the fact that Fitz had been shoving bookshelves around instead of tending his feet, though she couldn't argue with his results. When the brothers whirled to go back the way they'd come, Simmons planted herself firmly in front of Cody and stuck out her hand.

"You have to listen to me. That thing could be dangerous. It's getting overtaxed and we don't know what the effect could be."

"I thought you said it was just a bicycle light," Cody countered, looking like he'd spotted the wire in a birthday magician's levitation trick. "What is this thing?"

"It  _is_ a bicycle light," she maintained staunchly, the sweat starting to pool a bit at her hairline. "Just a very dangerous one."

"Well how bad do ya want it? 'Cause--"

"The Hell is your problem?" Fitz growled, attempting to snatch Cody's arm and pry the battery away, until Simmons gave him a tiny shake of her head.  _The last thing we need is for this idiot to get hurt and blame it on Fitz_.

Cody retreated somewhat and faced both of them, lip curling defiantly. "Okay, okay. We'll give it back.  _If_ ," he pointed to Jemma, "she shows us her bra."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the grand connection between Didi's texts is revealed! Every one of them is an actual... wait for it... (word for word) Jaden Smith tweet! (Told you the "mystery" was lame, haha.)
> 
> And will Simmons be forced to show off her cute underwear? Is she even wearing a bra?! These and other Important Issues will be addressed in Tuesday's update!
> 
> :-)
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying the story - it's nearly over!


	9. Chapter 9

_My bra? The entitled little arse._  Although at this point, she just wanted to be done with the whole business.

"She will do no such thing." Fitz was clearly affronted, squinching his cheeks up in indignation and seeming to forget that he was dressed like glittery rock star royalty. He began to stomp towards the boys, a little unevenly, before Simmons stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow.

"Fitz," she shrugged, speaking quietly. "If it helps us retrieve our tech, I could show them the strap or something. They'd see as much from any clothing catalog."

"No way! We wanna see the whole bra!" Cody was speaking for both of them, his younger brother looking mostly confused.

"Simmons, I'm not gonna let some little pervert talk y' into anythin' just because  _I_ screwed up and lost the component." His eyes were still fierce, lit up from inside with annoyance. "And that chav's probably got his camera ready, waitin' to make you the Internet's next big 'wardrobe malfunction'."

"Your boyfriend's an asswipe," Cody cut in. "You should be with a real man. Baby, if you were my girl, I would treat you so right--"

Simmons barely had time to cringe before Trey piped up happily, "Oh, he's not her boyfriend. They're just friends. You should get her number, Cody!"

Cody seemed to twitch, his mouth stretching into a gross leer. "Hahahaha, oh, man, she made you dress like that and you're not even getting any? That is  _so whipped_!" He accentuated the opinion with a whiplash noise and movement.

"Hey-- hey, okay, now--" Fitz studiously avoided looking at Simmons, shifting his weight and raising his palms in protest.

"You're so far in the friendzone you should be the mayor!" Cody was delighted, reveling in the way his taunts made the Scot turn red.

"Oh, mother of all things-- there is no such thing as a 'friend zone'..." Fitz punctuated with air quotes, "it's a ridiculous concept. Do y' really think the only reason to be friends--"

"Oh man, listen to you. Careful, Ke$ha, don't get too worked up! You might chip a nail!"

Fitz had barreled on talking, pretending not to hear the teenager's words. He'd crossed his arms, though, incensed and a tad off-kilter. "--too young to understand this now, but for your sake I hope--"

Cody bobbed his head, puckering his face in false sympathy. "Aww, did I hit a nerve? You gonna cry? Watch out, you'll smudge your makeup!"

Simmons couldn't sit there and watch this anymore. It was useless to try to argue or reason with someone like Cody; the pillock was a dog with a bone. Screwing up her courage before she could re-think her plan, Jemma grabbed the wide lapels of Fitz's jacket and pulled his face down to hers, kissing him hard. The moment was aggressively brief, a few seconds at most, but those few seconds were enough for Simmons to realize she'd made a mistake.  _I'm going to be thinking about this forever._  Fitz was obscuring her senses -- without moving a muscle he'd overwhelmed her with the smell of his skin, the scruff on his chin scratching lightly against her mouth, the taste of his sweat buzzing with the faint tang of salt. The night was merely warm, but Jemma was rippling heat, perspiration trickling down her neck in a fervent plea for Fitz's lips to run goosebumps over her instead. She had to get out from under the tide before she was swallowed whole.

Simmons dragged her self-discipline out from a musty attic corner of her brain, and forced herself to push away. Fitz was carbonite, eyes wired wide, mouth hanging like an unfinished limerick, and she felt the thrill of pride shoot through her chest at the way he was staring, flabbergasted and slightly in awe.

She turned to Cody with a smirk. " _I'll_  smudge his makeup."

From the corner of her eye she could see Fitz, still gaping, mouth flapping heavy and slow, like an unlatched storm shutter. She stalked over to Cody and held out her hand. "You've had your fun. But we really must be going now."

Fitz found his voice. "Right you are, Simmons. I'd wager it's past these little ones' bedtime, anyway."

"Hey!" Cody clearly did not appreciate being called little. "You better-- aah!" Suddenly his hand jerked and he threw the power core onto the floor, grabbing his younger brother and pulling them both behind a standing mirror.

A low hum had invaded the space, and it took Simmons a second to realize that it was emanating from the device, now rattling on the floor, frantically spitting out haphazard aquamarine sparks into the surrounding air. The humming spiraled louder, reverberating through her ears and cheeks and nostrils, and she looked around desperately for something with which to pick it up from the floor, even as she rushed over to the kids. She snatched Cody's arm to check him over.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

"Yeah… it just started buzzing and freaked me out… felt like a bug in my hand. What  _is_ that thing?"

"That's not important right now." A harsh spearmint light was rolling off the now-incandescent power core, and in the newly brightened room Simmons was relieved to see only intact skin, no burn marks or other damage. She addressed the boys.

"You two, go into your father's office and close the door. Does he have a desk?" They nodded mutely, their faces milk. "Good. Hide under it." She grabbed them by the shoulder, turned them bodily in the correct direction, and pushed them forward.

 _Now for the real problem._  "Fitz?" The question wobbled a bit in her throat.

"I see it." Fitz was crouched by the device, mere feet away, fingers drumming against his knees. "I don't know how long we've got--"

"-- before it blows?" She wasn't sure if there would be a blast, or how big, but the alien material inside the core was unpredictable.

"-- or it'll melt down, we've never tested the limits this far before. Either way, the tech'll be worthless." Fitz wasn't shouting, wasn't panicked. His brow was grooved in absolute concentration as he toyed with their dilemma, biting his lip. In a different situation, one  _not_ fraught with the potential for bodily harm, she might have enjoyed watching him. "If I can get a good look, I might be able to shut it down… but I can't do anything while it's shakin' like that. I need--"

"--an oven mitt would be nice." Simmons had already searched every nearby surface, scouring her vision over the furniture to see what she could find.  _Table runner? Too thin._  She considered getting a comforter off one of the beds, but they were on the other side of the warehouse. And thanks to the  _hilarious_ antics she and Fitz had suffered on the stairs, all available sofa cushions were scattered far and wide, up and down the steps.

Simmons was angry. She was worried. She was gobsmacked at how a couple of  _children_ had managed to evade them for most of the night.  _We shouldn't even have been in this situation._  To make matters worse, she was sweaty and tired and the lump of latex chafing against her back wasn't exactly--  _Wait a minute._  Pulling the bundle out from her belt, she unfurled the mask, leaving the teddy bear inside, and ran to press it over the power source. The old toy was just beaten-down and flattened enough that she could envelop the pulsating cylinder easily, and the rubber added an extra layer of precaution against a shock. Almost instantaneously, the rancid, sour reek of the singed plush reached her nose.

"Arrgh, that's horrible--" Fitz cut off as a dry heave contorted his face like a yogi. His cheeks bulged, forehead popping, and a gag undulated through his torso. "Okay. It's fine, just--" he gasped, "hold it steady, Simmons."

He was fighting off his natural squeamishness, the effort evident in his posture. Through that, Fitz trusted her to control the vibration, to keep the power core still so he could assess their next move, and as in most of their partnership, that trust was well placed. He squinted into the blinding glow, his mouth shaping lightning thoughts to himself as he puzzled out what to do. The next time Fitz spoke, seconds later, his nerves seemed to sprout in his voice, thorny roots growing from an old potato. "It's too unstable." His quiet fear infected her with spikes and shards. "Jemma, I can't turn it off."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-DUUNNN...
> 
> Well, this is the penultimate chapter! And hey, they finally got their battery back! So that's good, I guess, even if it's probably going to explode them and take off their faces. Also, let me apologize for the "science" in this chapter and the next. Usually my husband helps me out with that part, but this time not so much.
> 
> Hey, do y'all remember that story where I used to tease a kiss that never happened? And now I throw a surprise kiss in there just for giggles! To be fair, I haven't watched ep 3, but I'm guessing that we *may* be wanting something cute to read after, so... kissy kissy smoochy time! Hope it helps.
> 
> Final chapter up on Thursday or Friday!


	10. Chapter 10

They looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Jemma tried to suppress the fear that welled up in her throat like a clogged drain. "All right." She nodded her encouragement. "In that case, what's the plan?"

"Right. The plan. Yes." Fitz's anxiety was bouncing through his torso now. "We need to… erm… we've got to…" The  _ah-hah_  moment crashed over him like daybreak. "We'll disperse the energy! If we can channel it into the wiring, create a power surge--"

"--it'll keep the device from self-destructing! Fitz, that's it!"

Fitz was already running. "C'mon, Jemma! The fuse box!"

Fitz had never moved this fast. And with blistered feet, no less. When they reached the staircase, Jemma stopped on a dime, heart trapped fast under her tongue. "Fitz! What on  _Earth_ are you doing?" He'd hopped up on the smooth wooden safety rail and was sliding down to the warehouse's street level.  _Daft muppet._  She raced to catch up.

At the bottom of the steps, Fitz beamed at her triumphantly. "I've always wanted to try that."

They spilled out of the side door together, into the alleyway, with barely the presence of mind to prop open the door before Fitz was yanking the metal panel off the circuit box, his hands miming a piano piece over the switches and multicolored wires within. "Bring the component," he bit off, motioning with snapped, impatient fingers. She was still holding tight to the glowing power source, countering the violent quiver as best she could. Realizing he had nothing to protect his hands, she kept the old bear around the core and passed him the Hoggle mask.  _Never mind the explosive battery, if he keeps up like this, Fitz will electrocute himself the old-fashioned way_. He nodded his thanks and pinched two wires through the mask, preparing to attach them to the brilliantly flashing object, wrapped up immobile in Jemma's grasp.

"Fitz!" He paused and looked at her, his face set in determination and fear. "How certain are you that this will work?"

He sucked in a breath."Hard to know… but it's our best chance to salvage the tech and save the TOBII project."

The Hell with the tech, and their jobs.  _This isn't safe. I can't let Fitz connect those wires._  For a moment, Jemma was tempted to dash off with the battery. There was no way Fitz would be able to match her pace, not at the moment. She could run back to the abandoned lot, try to bury the device, get away from people, wait it out. She tried not to think about the possibility of the core melting down in her hands.  _We don't_ _ **know**_ _that'll happen._ These energy fluctuations might not cause a blast at all --

As if he could guess she was debating whether to play martyr, Fitz's sharp gaze harpooned her. "Either way, time to find out." With no further warning, he connected the wires he was holding to the power source in her hands.

In a split second, the power component went dark. There was a moment of stillness, elated relief and the optimistic certainty --  _of_ _ **course**_ _it worked out, we're the good guys_  -- that went part and parcel with Jemma's ideals. Then all Hell broke loose. Every light in the building came on at once. Music and speech entwined, blasting towards them like a drunk linebacker, a dissonant jumble of radio stations and movies being played on the home theater equipment all around the sales floor. They could distantly hear the animatronic statue at the main doors of the store calling out to customers: "Who needs a knight in shining armor when you could have a bright and shiny armoire!" and "Never mind fair maidens - at Castillo Furniture, we have fair prices!"

Over the din, Simmons became acutely aware of the  _wee-oop_   _wee-oop_  of the burglar alarm going off in the store.  _Well, that's one drawback of electrically flooding every circuit in the place._

"Time to leave!" She grabbed Fitz's sleeve and pulled him back into the street, not keen to test the police response rate for this neighborhood.

"Shouldn't we check on--" Fitz motioned back towards the store before stopping himself with a small shake of his head, "What am I sayin', let's go!"

They half-stumbled, half-skipped down a ways until they reached the bus stop. Flopping down onto the bench, Jemma realized she was still holding on to the charred remains of the dirty, decrepit teddy bear. "Well, this little fellow's done for," she clucked, gazing at the plush with a hint of melancholy.

"Is that what I've been smellin'?" Fitz grimaced in distaste and gestured towards a large trash can just beside the bus bench. "There's the bin, then." Jemma didn't move. "What are you waitin' for? A eulogy?"

"Of course not." She leveled him with  _A Look_. "I was just thinking about all the places this bear has been, who it's belonged to, how it ended up here. It seems wrong, somehow…"

"Look at you," Fitz grabbed a sheet of newspaper from a rack of free classified ads and gingerly took the plush from her, careful not to touch it with his bare hands. "The years I spent keepin' you company during late night study sessions, and never once," he wrapped up the bear expertly, like the world's foulest burrito, "did you start gettin' sentimental about a toy."

"Oh, you were just keeping  _me_ company, I see," she nodded. "Because it's not as if  _you_ ever needed to revise…" she scoffed, sense of humor coming back as she reclaimed the bear from him. "I do like the funeral shroud." She stood and walked slowly to the bin.

Fitz mirrored her, clearing his throat. "All right then, here goes: we've gathered to pay our last respects to this filthy, disgustin' pile of synthetic--"

"Fitz!" she chuckled, "This brave soldier gave himself up so we could get our tech back."

"Fine. What should we call 'im, then, Steve Rogers?"

She hummed in thought. "David," she announced finally, "I had a plush named David that I absolutely loved."

"Fine," Fitz put his hands on the wrapped-up package, fingers grazing hers. "We pay our last respects to Dumpster Dave--"

She gave him a good-natured scowl and took over. "--who, despite being surrounded by rubbish, didn't allow it to define him -- a bear who once knew love, and gave his final moments to the pursuit of science."

"Trashes to trashcan, dust to dustbin," Fitz intoned with mock solemnity, as they tipped David into the wastebasket, where it landed with an unsatisfying rustle. He pulled out a lighter.

"Fitz. What do you think you're doing?!"

"Well,  _Simmons_ , this whole thing's gone a bit twee for my taste, so I was  _tryin'_ to honor our fallen fr--"

"By calling the fire brigade down on us? I think after tonight, we've tallied up a fair few black marks already, don't you?"

" _Okay_ ," Fitz put his hands up in surrender. "I won't light anythin' on fire. Christ's sake, Simmons, you're such a girl sometimes."

"I  _am_ a girl!"

Fitz scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. "Yeah, erm, actually, I'd noticed that."

"Oh." The air in her lungs turned to smoke. Now that it was here, she realized, she wasn't ready for this discussion.

"So…" Fitz was blushing just to get the words out, "What  _was_ that back there, anyway?"

 _No, no no no no._  Honestly, she'd just wanted to kiss her best friend without any consequences. Now he wanted her to  _explain_ herself?  _The cheek._

"Well, you know…" she fought off a blush of her own.  _I still have plausible deniability_. "He was being awful to you. And there's just no talking to someone like that."

"So that's-- you were just… bein' a good friend?" Fitz's eyes narrowed, uncertain and searching.

Her fingernails became absolutely hypnotic. She shrugged. It would be easier if she could lie, then she could pretend the kiss meant nothing. Then again, if she  _could_ lie, they'd be able to hide a relationship from SHIELD. This was all too much for half three in the morning, but she knew with total clarity that she wouldn't risk the most important thing in her life.  _We've got time. We'll get another chance._

She met Fitz's eyes, willing him to drop it, to let things go back to normal. "I got him to shut up, didn't I?"  _Change the subject._  "And saved our project, most of it, anyway." She smiled, holding up the slightly-melted battery.

"Excuse me? Who did what now?" The teasing note he adopted when she tried to take credit for  _his_ fix lifted the cinderblock off her chest.

"Well, if you're going to argue semantics," she bumped his shoulder with hers, standing as she saw the bus round the corner a block away, "I suppose  _we_ saved our project." She handed him the power core and watched as he scrutinized the fused metal. "Is it going to be okay?" Simmons knew she wasn't only referring to the tech. She thought Fitz knew it too.

"Yep." Fitz tossed the component up into the air, catching it easily before standing and tucking it back into his coat. "Nothin' we can't handle."

They watched the bus pull up with a whine, door swinging open with a hydraulic  _shhsssssssst_. "C'mon, Jemma." He smiled at her, drowsiness smudging his edges, filling her with feathers. "Let's go home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it! Yep, I'm a pansy, I couldn't hurt the kids. But they got a good scare, and the police are gonna come and find them in the warehouse, so they'll probably get in trouble with their Dad, and probably no one'll believe them when they spout off their crazy story, so that's a crappy feeling.
> 
> Also, David the teddy bear is a reference to bookishandbossy's Lost & Found - a really lovely AU that you should definitely read if you haven't.
> 
> Thanks of course to my awesome beta amandajoyce118 who is a toasted piece of cake. I am not even kidding. Next time you have cake, toast a dang slice, you will not be sorry. I mean, you'll have to use the oven or toaster oven, and don't do it with like, buttercream-icing birthday cake, but… y' know, yellow cake. Although Amanda would obviously be angelfood cake because awww.
> 
> I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Hopefully I remember before too much time goes by.
> 
> I'll be working on something else soon, for sure, but probably nothing related to Season 2 for a long while. In the meantime, check out my other fics if you haven't read them. 
> 
> Thanks y'all!


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